/jp/ - Otaku Culture

>>46826350
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Her answer didn't come immediately, those large eyes jumping to anything but the blood-soaked cloak and, naturally, I kept my silence. Things like this cannot be forced; applying pressure is a delicate process. Besides, everyone has pride, even the meekest of humans; to challenge it too much could shatter relationships… Hm, still, what should I do if Motoori decides she's not up to par? The requirements are few but specific: one cherished human that can be easily puppeteered into a position of power and with no real or small control over such power, to which I can perfectly fill…

No one comes to mind, which is a shame; having all this hard work wasted because of the lack of a compelling figurehead would be criminal…

Yes, it wouldn’t be right: the many efforts of the dead cannot be thrown away, and if it means resorting to unsavory strategies, then so be it—the thought clenches my heart with guilt, but I do my best to ignore it and so keep concentration on pouring magic onto the barrier and lure of desires.

Above, perhaps from the heavy smoke, rain starts to fall, my hands molding the shields so to have a cone-shaped roof, water droplets swimming down the walls of light in a visually hypnotizing fashion; more people enter, too, most in groups of humans and Youkai, mountains of wounded—limbs torn, holes through their bodies, immolation—awaiting field treatment, the few Inaba around working skillfully despite sluggishness from pregnancy.

I and Kosuzu watched it in silence…

… Finally, she speaks. “I don't know…” I glance at her, still kneeling on the ground, before moving back to stare at the communal efforts. Who, a year ago, would've thought? “E-Every moment I carried her, I was lashing out inside, thinking I was committing a mistake. Mokou's embers wouldn't last forever, and I-I could've died at any time… If Keine were a ghost, she'd be begging me to let her body go so I'd run faster…” She attempts to laugh at the end, but the accumulating tears make it futile; they get her on her feet and soon, albeit weakly, Kosuzu lifts the dead body and moves it to a more respectable spot. “B-But I couldn't, because…” She cleans up the tears, bells jingling with her small movements, one hand grasping tenderly the right of the dead woman—a desire, latent, pulses into the air, and I hide the sudden temptation to sigh; poor, poor Motoori. “… I t-think she'll come back to us!” Kosuzu looks at me shakily, and I can see the lingering shock of seeing her world go up in flames behind her eyes. Bitterness fills my mouth.

A coping mechanism; denial; survivor's guilt; delusion—doesn't matter. Not here, in hell, where it's all the same.

… There was, however, the same determination burning like embers against a fierce blizzard, the rain above intensifying to include thunders. “It wouldn't be the first time; I saw it happening at Eientei; at that night with Mr. Hieda and his s-samurai…” Her tears stop streaming and, at length, her eyes land on the cloak in my hands. “If someone could squeeze from the Yama a second chance at life, I think it'd be her.”

Hope born from delusion; hope to keep going.

Eiki is incredibly averse to the idea of second chances and only grants them to people she deems worthy or are purely white, but Kosuzu doesn't know that—better, doesn't need to know that—meaning hope pulses and the desire will keep on burning despite the attempts of the blizzard.

Useful.

“You thought highly of her, didn’t you?” I say, looking over at Keine briefly—you had good friends, didn't you~?—before resuming. “Okay, I believe you.”

Kosuzu doesn’t react, just blinks in sheer disbelief… Then, “H-Huh…?!”

“Your desires speak truthfully of your experience, so I choose to believe our revolutionary leader shall return—I'll even send a message to Eiki~” A gleaming ball of light births from in between my protuberant locks of hair, shooting up to the skies. It’s made up of nothing but a pound of magic that’ll scare Eiki by popping behind her; sad that I won't be there to see, but oh well. “So, until Keine walks amidst the living again, I think you should hold the fort. Our enemies don't have infinite ammo, and these walls shall hold on until I deem it necessary; we'll let them waste everything they have, then we'll attack them with all the rage this revolution has built for its entire existence… But to make it work, we'll need a leader—a leader that doesn't need to fight, yet a leader that'll keep the people's spirits up! Someone to shine brightly and show them a smile; confidence—we need you…” I move behind her and, reckoning the moment is perfect, apply the final pressure, laying the blood-soaked cloak on her shoulders. “The fight is not over yet, Kosuzu Motoori.”

She freezes, tense as a rod, gawking at the regal cloak. A flicker of heavenly magic makes it flutter majestically. “It's… v-very heavy.”

“As it should be—it bears all of these people's futures and by wearing it, so do you. Don’t worry, I’m here with you~”